


Time to Stop Running

by TygerTyger



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TygerTyger/pseuds/TygerTyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor hates not knowing everything, so it was no surprise that he found meeting River unsettling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Library

**Author's Note:**

> This was borne from my confusion at the Doctor's strange behaviour in a number of episodes. Being rubbish at meta I decided to write a fic to explore the possible reasons. It took ages and took a lot of episode rewatching (not that I'm complaining).

He knew from the first time he met her that he was going to spend a lot of time running.  That time in the library when she touched his face and looked at him like she did, expecting the same in return.  She loved him, he was certain of that much, and she didn’t seem like the type of person who would without encouragement.  He realised that in the future he would give her reason to love him, and knowing that didn’t feel fair. 

Whatever happened to meeting someone and falling in love with each other in that order?  Wasn’t that how it was supposed to happen? But there she was, her breath mingling with his, spilling her ‘spoilers’ out through her eyes: familiarity and tenderness followed by gut-wrenching pain. He knew it shouldn’t have, but it _really_ pissed him off.

He wondered if he was ever going to learn, if he would ever stop letting humans fall in love with him. He thought he had learned his lesson after the last time, when it hurt him, almost as much as it had hurt Rose, to say goodbye. To admit that it wasn’t going to ever work because of their species incompatibilities; he would never be human enough for her. Now he was finding out that he was going to do it again. His future-self was an absolute idiot.

She was atypical as humans went, though; she was sharp, almost as sharp as he was, and she advised him to be _less_ emotional. Normally they wanted him to be more like them.  But even so, it would always end in the same way: he wouldn’t be able to provide what she needed from him and he would have to leave her.  He didn’t want to travel that well-trodden path again.  He decided then that even though he liked her name, he was going to call her only ‘Professor’; anything more familiar might encourage her.

And so the running began.

He found out quickly how to hurt her, “Who are you to me?” He could see it in her eyes; his not knowing her was breaking her.  Not being allowed to provide the answer cut her all the more. Knowing that about her was dangerous information. She said these were _his_ rules. He thought his future-self callous for providing such ammunition to a version who would use it readily.

She had his screwdriver and he didn’t give his screwdriver to anyone.  That was something he was sure he would never change his mind on – unless it wasn’t ‘given’. He supposed the fact that he entertained the notion was what made her feel the need to prove to him wrong.  She apologised and then whispered his name to him – letting him know exactly who she was to him, and who he was to her.

A sickening mix of conflicting thoughts and emotions coursed through him. Some time in the future he would feel like that again. A spark of hope was followed quickly by a tightening in his stomach as he felt his choice being removed.  He knew he had to trust her, but that didn’t preclude him from resenting her.  He didn’t want his life to be mapped out; he wanted to be able to choose his path. He pushed the hope out again, it felt wrong.

He had wondered for some time if he would be ready if the opportunity presented itself, to finally put an end to the tiredness he felt and the drag of every moment. Four thousand and twenty-three people could be saved, and if he wanted to do it he would have to die. He _was_ ready, it seemed. Donna would be fine; she didn’t need him anymore. Everyone else was gone and he’d only known River a day. 

He made his choice and then she robbed him of it. She wouldn’t let him go. She was going to sacrifice herself, not for any of the four thousand and twenty-three, but for him, and for herself. He admired the selfish motive behind the selfless act; she reminded him of himself. He called her ‘River’ at last: a confession that he believed everything that she had and hadn’t told him.

She sat in the chair and made sure that he knew _exactly_ how much he would come to love her and then she died, taking his free will with her. 

As he sat handcuffed, waiting for rescue, he found himself wondering what exactly he would do to make her love him with such fervour that she was willing to sacrifice herself for times he hadn’t lived yet. He wondered how he would come to love her, a human, in a way he hadn’t thought possible, a way he still didn’t believe was possible. The enigma terrified and excited him in equal measure. He knew then that he had already started to fall.

 

 


	2. Angels

He had brought Amy to a museum to show off when he found River’s message. It was written in the language of his people. The fact that she used words that could burn stars to write _that,_ thrilled him. He jumped into action to pick her up, but when she was there, the nagging feeling returned.  Foreknowledge just slipped right out of her, even if she hid the details behind ‘spoilers’.  She couldn’t help herself but push him when he wasn’t ready and he wondered if he would do the same to her some day. 

It was obvious that she had spent a lot of time in his TARDIS, and of course she did, considering who she was. The fact that she could _fly_ the ship was something he hadn’t expected. They had a curious simpatico that made him uneasy, jealous perhaps. She knew his ship almost better than he did and they were ganging up on him.  The TARDIS trusted her, and yet he couldn’t.

He wanted to run away. He was going to, but he _really_ hated not knowing things, which was probably the reason it didn’t take very much persuasion from Amy to convince him to stay.

She told him what was in the belly of the ship and there was no way he could leave then. There were colonists, and a challenge, and…her. She had promised the Clerics the equivalent of an army.  Was that how she saw him? If it was, he was baffled.

That day he got a glimpse of how he would come to love her, in his future.  She was brilliant.  She could keep up with him, and he didn’t have to explain everything to her. It was natural and easy. She even took on the more tiring aspects of having a companion: the comforting, the reassuring, and the explaining. It was immensely helpful and allowed him extra time to think. Even with that, she was still only a fraction behind him. There was a spark of something so familiar about her manner; he couldn’t place it but he felt the pull of it. It was, almost, irresistible.

She trusted him completely and believed in him. She had faith that he would save them all, even though he knew he couldn’t – such devotion.  She was _so_ very impressed when he was being clever – he could see desire burning in her eyes. He always loved the adoration, but combined with lust it was intoxicating.

She was engaged to Octavian _in a manner of speaking_ , it played on his mind and he felt something base within him urge him to stake his claim.  Then Octavian let her secret slip: she was a prisoner.  She hadn’t wanted him to find that out.  He felt pleased that her game had come undone, but he wondered why she thought it would matter to him what she was.

Octavian couldn’t help himself, he felt duty-bound to do the morally right thing and warn him. The Doctor couldn’t help but take advantage of his pliant state and teased the information from him.  He found out that she was going to kill him, and just as he was beginning to warm to the idea of loving her. This really wasn’t fair. 

“Who did she kill?” he asked hoping for an answer that was anything other than what he knew to be the truth. He could feel an unfamiliar prickle behind his eyes; he sniffed it back and turned to leave the courageous cleric to his fate. He felt conflict rage within him and a terrible hopelessness take hold.

He was hot with irritation when entered the Primary Flight Deck, and she was back playing her normal game. He snapped. _She_ had gotten them into this and she was giving _him_ a hard time? At least he could shut her up with a dose of venom.

Then she did that wonderful, clever thing and saved Amy when he couldn’t. All of his anger evaporated instantly. “See, I told you I could fix it,” she said smugly. He felt a swell of something new: he was proud of her, proud that she was or would be his.  “I could kiss you,” he said. “Maybe when you’re older,” she replied, but they both knew there was no maybe about it.

On the beach he asked her whom she had killed, even though he knew the answer – he wanted to gauge from her reaction _why_ she had done it.  All the mischief fell from her expression and she looked at him sadly.  She told him that he was the best man she had ever known. That was all he needed to know.

“Time can be rewritten,” he told Amy confidently.  All he wanted was to save River from killing the man she loved, and he was going to.


	3. Big Bang

Two words were scrawled across the cliff: _Hello Sweetie_. He tried to stifle his smile, but he was beginning to enjoy her calling card.  Underneath it there were coordinates, but also a name he was once known by – ΘΣ – a hidden message for him alone, _I know you_.

He found her sitting in a tent dressed as Cleopatra. He instinctively moved to take the higher ground and stood over her. She didn’t so much as flinch, she lifted a scroll up to him from her submissive position – peering up hat him from under her dark lashes with a look in her eye that told him she might look like this in other situations.  He thought he might like that.

Again she told him what he already knew – his TARDIS was going to explode. He didn’t know, however, that she’d be inside when it did.

He turned the dish to hear the voice coming from the explosion and his hearts sank. “I’m sorry, my love.” She felt like she had let him down, and in what she thought was her last moment, she apologised to him even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.  He felt a pang of affection and felt sorry for denying her the kindness he knew she deserved so many times before. When he went to save her he decided to show her that he cared, in a way he knew she would understand – he flirted with her, instigating it for the first time. She responded as though this was a well-rehearsed routine, but it didn’t bother him for once. He offered her his arm and she rushed to take it.

He had managed to strap himself into the Pandorica but he was weak and about to die. She rushed to him and touched him tenderly; he kept his eyes closed. The Ponds waited outside while she finished the wiring for him and made sure the Pandorica mechanism was fully functioning so that he would be able to make it to the TARDIS without burning up. She worked silently but he heard her sniff back tears.

“Don’t cry, River,” he said, forming the words in his dry mouth.

“I’ll cry if I like,” she replied, her voice thick.

“It’ll be alright.”

“You won’t have ever existed, and I…” She forced herself to stop.

“Remember what Amy told you at Stonehenge.” He prized he eyes open to look at her; he could see the cogs turning. She had told him and Amy about the Pandorica on the beach at Alfava Metraxis,

“Oh. But how?”

“Dunno, I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” he said with a painful sigh.

She put her hand on his. “If you don’t… I just want you to know –”

“I will,” he interrupted. River dried her eyes and finished the last of her checks.

He was sorry that he hadn’t known her when she died, that he couldn’t have given her the emotion that his future-self surely would have. Emotion like she was giving him now. He found it comforting that she cared so deeply about him, that he mattered so much to her.

He still didn’t know how to respond to her love, though.  He didn’t feel the same way, even though he accepted that would have, some day, if the universe weren’t about to end, or if he actually did have a plan. At least if he didn’t come back she would be saved from it all, everything would reboot and she would get to live a life without his muddling it up.

But he did find, a way and he did come back.

He had her diary and wondered how she had remembered him when only Amy was supposed to. _Who was she? How could she remember?_ She’d never tell him, he’d have to find out the long way. So he asked her another question that he knew the answer to. “Are you married, River?”

“Are you asking?” she teased and he replied in the affirmative, muddying the waters.  She answered in the only way she could, and told him everything he wanted to know. “Yes,” _I am married_ , and “Yes,” _I will marry you_.   She told him then that he’d find out who she was soon, and that it would change everything.  She disappeared and he felt a thrill of anticipation, “Man.”


	4. America

He received a mysterious summons, TARDIS blue and lying on the floor inside the door, as if it had been posted through the non-existent letterbox. Another one of her calling cards – he was sure of it.

He went to the diner and waited, waiting was boring. _This had better be worth it_ , he thought. When she arrived she was with the Ponds and she was vulnerable again – she had been crying and she was furious with him. He tried flirting, but all he got in return was a slap. Why did she have to be so _unpredictable_? He really thought he was going to find out who she was this time, but it wasn’t looking likely now.

They were all acting strangely, like they couldn’t believe that he could be there, and they had invitations too. River asked him his age and he knew then who was behind all this – his bastard of a future-self. What had he done now?

They wouldn’t tell him what had happened. He expected it from River – that was _her_ Doctor after all, but Amy and Rory? Did they all think he was _so_ stupid, that they could keep it from him? If they did, they _really_ underestimated him. There was no way he was going to follow this trail of breadcrumbs.

“You’ll just have to trust us this time,” she said and he felt his jaw and his chest tighten. She wanted him to trust her? When she wouldn’t answer a question directly, when she thought he was stupid enough not to know what they were hiding from him?

He decided to really hurt her, channel his rage into a willing vessel, just how he had been taught. “Trust you? Seriously.” She took it all, remaining stony-faced as he tried to break her. He could see a shadow of hurt in her eyes, but her face gave no clue. His future-self had taught her well. 

Regret soon followed, when her loyalty didn’t waiver.  She stuck around and loved him still – like a moth to a flame.  It didn’t help that his future-self knew that he would have to teach her these things, because who knew how much of a bastard he could be better than himself? None of this was her fault; she wasn’t the one pulling the strings. He felt sorry for using her as an outlet. Courageous, loyal, clever River, wouldn’t she suffer enough for him in her future?

He could feel some more of the ice melt with his regret – he really liked her.  He was used to people fancying him, but didn’t know much about how to let someone know that he fancied them – and if that slap earlier was anything to go by he needed practice.  He couldn’t choose between the pigtail pulling or flattery option – bit of both, he decided, and gave it a shot.  To his surprise, it seemed to work. Before he knew it she was telling him, in no uncertain terms, that they were lovers –brazenly in front of everyone. He would probably have blushed before, but now it caused his blood to run hot. A screamer: he was looking forward to testing that out.

\---

After three months of running and collecting data on the Silence, everyone was brought back together. They found the spacesuit but not the little girl. River examined the suit and detailed its functions. She was telling him far more about it than someone could know just by examining it. She had been in that suit; she _was_ the little girl.  “It’s possible she’s not just any little girl,” he said. 

She told him that she was human, no surprise there, but she had been physically strong enough to escape the suit - that was really unexpected.  She said that they should be looking for the girl, looking for _her_.  “I have the strangest feeling that she’s going to find us,” he said and looked straight into her eyes for some clue in her expression but she was inscrutable as ever. He had always a fan of a puzzle, and River Song was an almost impossible one.

She kissed him goodbye. He didn’t see it coming but it was soft and warm and erotic. She was expecting him to kiss her, in fact. The only reason that could be was that he _usually_ kissed her goodbye, that kissing goodbye was a _thing_ they did – regularly. He felt his future-self was laughing at him again and it made him balk.

He retreated to the TARDIS, trying to pretend that he wasn’t noticing her heart breaking. After everything he had thrown at her, it was a kiss that made her break in the end – and he hadn’t even been trying.  He had intended to go looking for the child, but all he wanted was to run away again.


	5. Demon's Run

The next time he met her he found out who she was and, as promised, everything changed.  He had been so angry when she had refused to come to help.   He was feeling guilty over Melody’s loss; he had been so focused on why the silence thought they needed a weapon against him that he completely neglected the signs that the win was too easy.

When she finally arrived he turned it on her, but this time she didn’t take it.  She held up a mirror for him to see himself for the first time; she showed him what he had become. She showed him how the universe was coming to see him, how she even saw him.  She told him that everything that had happened in Demon’s Run was his fault. The guilt burned his hearts and he thought he could take no more.

He demanded that she tell him who she was, and for once, she just did.  It felt like a balm to his soul, a spark in the darkness – all was not lost. It would be okay; Melody would be safe because she was standing in front of him.

He probably would have put the pieces together had Kovarian not interrupted his thought process earlier.  But he was glad he hadn’t, because this was the only way he wanted to find out. She was his companions’ daughter and his TARDIS’ daughter. She was the best of all worlds – what he loved about humans and what he loved about his own race all rolled up in one magnificent package.

He was surprised that he hadn’t noticed how much like them all she was. Like Rory she was brave and loyal and had a mean right hook; she was fiery and gutsy like Amy. Best of all, time ran through her veins – he could give her what she needed and he could allow himself to take what _he_ needed in return.

He knew exactly where to find her: where he had left her the last time he saw her. He arrived at Stormcage soon after his earlier self had left her with that look on her face, like everything was ending.  She was sitting on her bunk, the gate to her cell still unlocked. Her diary was open on her lap and she had her pen in her hand, but her head was dropped and she wasn’t writing.

He entered the cell. “River.”

“Hm?” she said and sniffed, but didn’t lift her head.

“River.” He approached her and knelt down in front of her.  She looked at him at last and he felt his hearts sink.  Tears were flowing down her cheeks as she silently wept.  He took her diary and pen and placed them aside, before taking her two warm hands in his own.

“River.” She looked at him, confused. “Melody,” he said.

Realisation trickled through to her expression, her desolation vanished and was replaced with elation and she laughed. He dried her tears with his hands as he gazed at her in awe, as though she was something that he thought had been lost long, long ago. She rested her face into his palm and he caressed her dappled, tear-stained cheek.

“River,” he said again as he brought his face close to hers and tenderly kissed her soft, swollen lips. He felt his hearts skip with the joy and he laughed at the sensation before pressing his mouth more firmly to hers. He ran a hand into her hair and the other around to her back and brought his torso flush with hers. She became fluid in his arms, her form melting into his. Her arms slipped around his waist, under his jacket, holding on to him just as firmly as he was holding her. Their lips and their tongues moved together and for once he felt like they were completely in sync.

He asked her to go back to tell him in Demon’s Run and she agreed quickly, as though she had been expecting the request. She didn’t even ask what to say, she just strapped her vortex manipulator to her wrist and asked him how she looked. “Amazing,” he replied.

She came back less than a minute after she had left, having done what she needed to do and then dropped her parents back home. He was waiting for her.

“What did you tell them,” he asked as she sat down facing him on the bunk.

“The same thing I told you,” she replied, “but they wanted to know what happened in between and I can’t tell them yet.” Her expression was sad and distant.

“Can you tell me?”

“No, but you’ll know why soon.”

“I promised Amy I’d bring her baby back, River.”

River looked down and shook her head sadly, “You can’t. You didn’t.  If you try to change it… please don’t change it.”

“But what about your parents?”

“They will be alright, I know they will.”

“Not as alright as they would be with their baby in their arms.” He took her by the wrist and dipped down to look her straight in the eyes.

“Please, please don’t. I don’t want to be anyone other than who I am. Please trust me and know that you will feel the same some day soon.”

He already felt the same; he wouldn’t change a thing about her, not now that he knew who she was. He couldn’t. But how could he explain it to Amy? He would have to figure something out.

Right now, though, he was sitting next to a woman who he was finally ready to let himself love. He was ready to acquiesce to what he had been running from, for so very long. He took her hand in his, and led her into the TARDIS and made love to her for the fist time. His, of course, but she did her best to make it seem like hers too. He promised himself that he would do her the same kindness when it was her turn.


	6. Berlin

Amy was trying to contact him; she had left messages on his phone. He really had tried to figure out some way of returning Melody to them without breaking his word to River, but in the end one of the promises was going to be broken.  So, even though it pained him, he avoided the calls until Amy decided on a less subtle means of communication and he had to go and at least let them know he hadn’t forgotten them.

“You know who she grows up to be so you know I _will_ find her,” he said vaguely, hoping it would be enough for now.

Then there was Mels - Amy and Rory’s friend who, funnily, he had never met. She was trouble, he knew that, but she thought he was hot – and she couldn’t be _too_ bad if she was the Ponds’ best friend.  Then she shot his TARDIS.

She was a little bit infuriating, but she kept Amy distracted, and for that he was grateful, until she somehow managed to get shot. Not even ten minutes traveling with him and already dead – that had to be a new record. _Great, another one._ He told her he’d marry her if she didn’t die. It seemed like a safe enough promise; she was most likely done for.  Then she told them all her secret and he knew River was on her way.

He was still a bit shocked though, when it happened, to see Mels become River. It had been a very long while since he had been present for someone else’s regeneration.  Seeing River appear and look like the woman he had, only very recently, done very naughty things to – but not having the faintest idea that she would ever be on the receiving end of such naughty things, made his brain frazzle.

He sat on Hitler’s desk and tried to remind himself that this was not the River he knew. It didn’t help matters when she leaned right on top of him, pushing him into the table. He could feel her thigh press into his crotch, her breasts brushing lightly against his chest, and the mixture of her breath with the regeneration energy.  It was very difficult to remember that this wasn’t _his_ River when his body wouldn’t stay on the same page as his head.

His head lost the battle and his body let him down completely; he let her stride right up to him and didn’t even attempt to evade the kiss. The woman had a history with various types of lipstick, and it’s not as though he hadn’t noticed when she came out of the back room with it freshly applied. Sloppy.  She did him in, and then took off.

He found her in the dining hall, well, the TARDIS did most of the finding, he was in no fit state to navigate and, anyway, he had to dress for the occasion.  That ridiculous robot was interfering: taking the Ponds and torturing their daughter. He couldn’t save any of them, but he could get them to save one another.  He begged her to save her parents, whatever she felt about him she wouldn’t want to let them die. She didn’t know how, she thought it was too late, so he told her that she was the child of the TARDIS – that _she_ could fly her.

He was dying and he needed the only person who could save him from this fate, so he called for River. Melody was as stubborn as her mother and didn’t seem to want to go anywhere, but he knew River would show up eventually so he wanted to be sure he didn’t miss his final opportunity to tell her. So he whispered it to her, because it was for her alone, and then everything slipped away.

He woke up with her hands caressing his face and she was aglow – River at last. She poured her regenerative energy into him and sealed it with a kiss. Of course he had hoped this would be the outcome, but he still felt sad and unworthy that she had given almost all of herself to save him. Someday she was going to sacrifice the remainder for the same reason, and that thought hurt more than any poison could.

He stood and watched her sleep, and allowed himself to think about the library. He wanted to confess, to her, to her parents, to anyone, but the only one he could tell was himself.  He admitted that, even though he knew what was to come, he wouldn’t change it – because to change it would mean that none of it would ever have happened. That was a thought that terrified him more than anything, even more than her death and someday losing her.  It made him acutely aware of the fragility of their spliced timelines; even the slightest change could tear it all asunder. He gave her the diary and hoped it would be enough to keep everything intact.


	7. 200 Years

He knew Rory was done, but Amy needed a nudge. After everything she suffered because of him, she never once blamed him and still loved him. He needed to save her from herself before it was too late. So he dropped them off and set off alone again.

He knew that his death was waiting, ready to come shuffling down the line, but he had no intention of going softly. He wanted to visit his old friends but he was afraid; he was well aware of his record. River’s words at Demon’s run still burned him, “This was exactly you, all this, all of it.” She was right, no matter where he went he left a trail of destruction in his wake, so he kept his distance. He couldn’t stay away from her, though, even if he tried. She always found him. He had nowhere to hide and he was grateful for that.

He’d receive a calling card or a note and rush to find her. She sometimes left riddles for him to follow – he particularly liked that. Other times he would arrive somewhere, looking for parts or just looking for information and there she’d be: propping up a bar, worrying a Sontaran or flirting with the nearest sentient being. It was almost as though the universe was conspiring.

She was always thrilled to see him, almost as thrilled as he was. She was all he had left and he ached when she wasn’t with him, which unfortunately was most of the time. She only ever stayed for a little while but he never asked her to stay longer, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew she’d turn him down, like she had before, and he didn’t think he could take it if it were actually spoken this time. So he’d hold her tight and let her go, back to her false prison and away from the real one that was him.

Being with her felt easy and natural, he enjoyed her quiet company and the comfortable silence that came with knowing her well. They could spend the day not speaking a word without even realising until the spell was broken by an offer of tea or someone shouting, “Run!”

They talked too. They talked about families and pot plants and fears and quantum mechanics. They had one particularly blistering row over blackcurrant jam they’d both rather forget. More often than not though, they talked about love and they unfolded their hearts to one another in the quiet of the TARDIS or the hustle bustle of a city planet. 

Every time he met her he kissed her goodbye, and not just goodbye. He kissed her hello, thank-you, good-luck, you-look-lovely, don’t-get-killed, fancy-meeting-you-here, and sometimes for no other reason than it swelled up in his chest and he thought he would burst if he didn’t. He could get lost in her mouth, place all of his focus on her lips and her breath and her soft, warm tongue against his. He would even sometimes lose track of time and not be sure if it was minutes or hours or years since he began kissing her. It should have disconcerted him, but it didn’t. Kissing for the sake of kissing was something he had never really appreciated before; it was glorious and he could do it all day. He couldn’t even care less if it was inappropriate, against the local law or upsetting little children.

He made love to her almost as often. Sometimes virtually silently, rocking slowly together exchanging wordless declarations of love, other times it would seem as though the walls would topple from the noise alone. Sometimes he pushed her up against the nearest flat surface, unable to wait to get her somewhere more private and he’d clamp his mouth over hers to keep them quiet and undiscovered whilst they satisfied their need for one another. He felt visceral and alive when he was with her, but more than that, he felt like a better man.

He saw it in others’ eyes too, how they reacted to him differently when she was there. She softened his edges and they saw him how he wanted to be seen – they weren’t afraid. It terrified him though; it made him feel vulnerable. If anyone wanted to get to him they would have an obvious target, and he was normally holding his target’s hand. He had to remind himself that this was River, that she was not defenceless or breakable and that she was most likely thinking the exact same of him.

He stayed away from younger versions of her, for the most part at least, he feared undoing anything so he kept his distance. But his hearts ached when he thought of Melody as a toddler alone in New York, so he found her and made sure someone came for her and looked after her until she was ready to go to England. When the time came he bought a ferry ticket and left it in her path to find on her way to school. He had no doubt that she would still have found her parents but he couldn’t help but try to make the process easier for her. It was his fault after all.

He tried to stay away from Luna too, but he often found himself returning there to check on her and take her out for coffee. Part of him feared that she would revert into Melody and he wanted to be sure his fears were unfounded. Once he brought her out to the moon-landing site to see the footprint. She didn’t know the personal significance, but someday she might look back and realise why he had brought her there and held her hand so tight. She wasn’t the same as the River he knew, she wasn’t done yet, he could feel it when he kissed her goodbye, there was something of River that hadn’t quite developed, maybe it was because this one hadn’t killed him yet, or maybe it was because their timelines were still so fragile.

Invariably he would seek out the other, older River after these encounters. Once she teased him that he was off getting turned on by college students and then he’d came back home to, “shag the wife.” She knew she slipped up as soon as she had said it but he told her that it was okay, that he already knew.

“I’m still sorry,” she said.

“I know,” he said stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, “No chance you’ll tell me when?”

“Nope.”

“Thought not. Well that’s not very fair now is it? You get all the status of being married to me and what do I get?” he said laughing.

“Well, what’s stopping you from levelling the playing field?”

“I don’t actually know. What if I were to ask you right now?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck and into his hair.

“Well then, River Song, how about it?”

She kissed him and breathed her acceptance into his mouth, “Yes.”

Ten hours later they were naked and caked head to foot in a thick layer of chalky mud, standing in the forest facing one another their cheeks cracking from smiling. Behind them, the tribe’s chanting and drumming was getting louder and louder until suddenly it stopped. They grabbed one another’s hands, silently counted to three and then ran jumping along the path of glowing embers, and out of the camp to the sea. A cheer erupted behind them as they sprinted to the cooling water. They could hear the drumming begin again and the Rapanui return to the celebration, leaving them alone to complete the ceremony.

They waded waist deep into the warm Polynesian ocean. The moon was slung low and large on the horizon, the breeze swirled in the trees, and the water lapped against them. He sank his hands into the water and watched the mud run off and swirl away on the tide. He poured the fill of his cupped hands over her face carefully; the water ran in rivulets carrying the clay away and down over the landscape of her body to the ocean. He repeated the action until her face was clean and then dried her lashes gently with his thumbs. Then she took her turn to rinse away the clay and reveal the face that she loved. They shared a soft, salty kiss and completed the ceremony.

“Now, wife,” he said. “Something needs to be done about your hair.” He placed his hand over her clay matted head and made a barely perceptible movement that was enough to indicate his mischievous intentions to someone who knew what they were looking for. She ducked away quickly and reached into the water bringing it sheeting up over him. “Oi!” He lunged forward through the splashes and swept her legs from under her, lifting her into his arms. He kissed her again before throwing her out in front of him. She disappeared in a cloud of paint under the surface. When she didn’t reappear, he scrambled towards the plume but before he could reach it he felt her grab him by the ankles and knock him down to join her in her watery world. Beneath the waves, her skin slipped silken across his as she swam up his body to kiss him. He felt he could stay in her world forever, and he thought it a shame that forever didn’t exist.

The pages were filling and although he didn’t want it to end, he knew everything must. The Singing Towers were looming somewhere in the distance and every minute he spent with her was bringing them nearer. But first would come Utah and he hoped that she could forgive him.


	8. Area 52

He spent months working on the Tesselecta, modifying it, improving it and making it generally less rubbish. He smoothed out the movement and included a mock regeneration cycle, using the TARDIS to interface with it to make it as convincing as possible. He needed to fool everyone, not just the Silence, but those who knew him best. The Silence would only believe it if the reactions of his friends were genuine.

He set up a motion-capturing device in the console room of the TARDIS and when he stepped inside it almost felt as though it was him walking about and not the machine. He had made sure to rig the spatial and sensory receptors on the machine to interface directly with his own whilst he was connected; it was the only way to ensure total control. He tested it out by remote piloting the TARDIS, throwing levers, punching in coordinates and overall it seemed fine.  There were a few glitches but nothing that couldn’t be solved with a bit more tinkering.

He sent invitations to the only people he trusted and numbered them. Himself first of course, always, but it was easy now – River was second. There was a time that it would have been the Ponds, but he trusted their daughter more than he ever thought it possible to trust another person. And this was his message to her: ‘2’.

They sat together in the diner where she had slapped him so many years earlier and compared diaries.  His hearts were thumping in his chest, in spite of the preparation he was still terrified. She, on the other hand, seemed at ease. “Have we done Easter Island yet?” He knew immediately but rifled through his diary all the same, “Yes, I’ve got Easter Island.” He was ridiculously nervous about what was about to happen and couldn’t relax. He wondered how she could be so laid back, she surely remembered? He wasn’t sure; he searched her face for some clue but couldn’t see any. He slipped his hand under the table and stroked her knee with his fingertip. Her hand soon came down and slipped into his, squeezing it tightly. She seemed almost excited; she must not have remembered what was coming.

“You are always and completely forgiven,” he said preparing for her younger self to play her part. He hoped it would be enough to make amends for what he was about to put her through.

He had a plan and it was going to work – She would ‘kill’ the Tesselecta and if he ran into her (and he knew he would, because she was that kind of woman), he’d pretend to be the pre-Utah Doctor and some day down the line he’d show up at her door and bring her to the Singing Towers. He liked the plan; he was going to disappear and wouldn’t be able to interfere anymore. No more lives ruined by his meddling – it was a good plan.

But nothing was ever straightforward when it came to River.  She just wouldn’t give in, she broke time to avoid killing him and it hurt. It physically hurt, he could feel time dying, but it also hurt to know that all the time he spent with her she knew that she had done this. She was the one who always trusted him, trusted that he would do what was best and this time, when he needed her to trust him the most, she didn’t.  In the diner, she knew this was coming and she wasn’t even sorry, she was happy about it. He had been duped.

She was stupid too, she brought him to her – if she really didn’t want to kill him all she had to do was stay away from him.  He knew this younger version wasn’t the same but he didn’t think she would be so different, how had he not seen that when he visited her?

She took him top of the pyramid and showed him what she had built, it was impressive, but really, what use was it? She sent out a message to all of time and space, what made her think anyone would care? He knew _she_ did but she was projecting her feelings on the rest of the universe. “You’re an embarrassment.” He aimed to hurt her. But she told him to shut up, and proved to him how much he was loved and how much he mattered to so many, and to no one more than her. 

In Demon’s Run she showed him the worst of himself, now she was showing him the best. She showed him that in spite of mistakes and wrong turns that he was still, and always would be, loved.  “I’ll suffer.” He could see it now, what it would do to her if he forced her to believe that she had killed him.  He could never put her through that now. He had been so busy thinking about himself and his choice that he didn’t think to allow her one.

She was so much like her parents – willing to sacrifice anything for the one they loved, taking grand gestures to ludicrous levels, and not to mention stupidly stubborn. Why did she have to be this? Their daughter, his bespoke… everything? He had to hand it to her, she knew what he needed and gave it to him whether he asked for it or not. So he decided to do something for her, make her the woman who married him and trust her completely, just as she always had trusted him. He kissed her and it didn’t feel like kissing the Luna River anymore, even through the Tesselecta. It felt like the first time he chose to kiss her after Demon’s Run, and like then, he made it a good one.

*****


End file.
